


Alive

by startwithsparks



Series: MMOM 2014 [8]
Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Human Nature, Introspection, M/M, Masturbation, Philosophy, Self-Discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:05:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2127801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startwithsparks/pseuds/startwithsparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Proteus seeks comfort during the times when Victor is not with him, and finds something that makes him feel startlingly human in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive

Victor did not often leave him alone, not when he could be in the tiny laboratory alongside him, toiling over his notes or whatever else he had set in front of him instead. But human lives, as Victor told him once, demanded certain sacrifices and among those were the need to go out and procure money and food. It didn't seem like a thing he should have had to be told, not once the words were out and lingered in the air between them, but before that moment Proteus was ruled solely by the desire to be close to his creator.  
  
He didn't have the words to express that need, nor any way of translating the urgency and pain he felt like an insurmountable weight on his chest. He felt a kind of ache that he couldn't fathom humans were ever meant to possess, an overwhelming rush, like cold water, that suddenly surged over him and threatened to drag him under the waves. He wanted to claw at himself and tear at the stitches that held him together, and cry and scream, and throw himself into a corner where it didn't feel like there was so much space and nothingness around him. It was that great vastness that surrounded him, the unfathomable space, that caused him such turmoil.  
  
But then Victor returned and suddenly that space didn't feel so vast, so empty. Proteus found that once more he had an anchor to which he could tether himself, a source from which his questions could be answered and his confusion could be unraveled. He didn't feel so lost when Victor was near, and if he did it was only because Victor knew as little about him as he knew about himself. He had someone to guide him through the darkness, at least, someone who could give words and meaning to the things he felt and tell him that he was not abnormal in feeling them.  
  
The fear of being left in that dark space by himself lessened gradually over time; each time Victor returned he became a little less afraid that he would never come back, and Proteus found ways to occupy and comfort himself in the doctor's absence. Victor encouraged him to go through the books left scattered through the laboratory and if he could not make sense of the words then to at least inspect the illustrations and diagrams inside. There were volumes that Proteus had no hope of ever understanding, those that went into detail about the body and its functions. But those were the ones replete with images that Proteus could use to remind himself what the different parts were called and admire the way Victor had put him back together. But when it came to the others, books of flowery verse, Proteus wondered if he was even meant to understand them entirely. He could fit the words together well enough, but he couldn't always make sense of them in his mind. They rarely spoke in a direct manner, dancing around their own meaning, which frustrated him and, a time or two, caused him to throw a book to the ground in despair. He quickly picked it up again and dusted it off, overcome with guilt that he might have damaged something of Victor's, but the frustration lingered with him. It was only when a line struck him in a peculiar way that he felt he had understood anything at all; though they created more questions than they solved.  
  
It was a queer feeling that settled down at the bottom of his stomach and made his skin flush warm, as though he had been standing too long in the sun. He tried once to ask Victor about the feeling, though he found this more difficult to communicate than other things. He was not alone in that, though a small comfort the knowledge was for him. Victor seemed to fumble his words, beginning to speak several times before finally explaining that there were some forms of the written word meant only to elicit such responses in other beings, that it was normal, and that he should feel no shame in it as long it remained within the privacy of those walls. Proteus didn't ask about it again after that, but when Victor was gone, or while he slept, or if he was busy with other things, he found his way to those books again and leafed back to the pieces that made him feel the most.  
  
There was a great reassurance in knowing that he was not damaged because of these things; he had been created by Victor and there was always a slip of uncertainty about what might happen if he proved defective in some way. Victor never gave him any cause to feel that way, yet it was within him regardless. He found some solace in the knowledge that Victor must have experienced these same feelings himself, which Proteus could tell well enough by the blush that stained his cheeks when he attempted to speak of it. Proteus understood that it was something meant to remain private, and perhaps that meant it was to be private from Victor as well, and that they need not speak of it anymore. He didn't mind, it gave him something to do when he would otherwise be driving himself mad in solitude.  
  
With the understanding that all this was very natural, Proteus began to indulge the feelings when they came upon him, instead of pushing them away and hiding them. His body responded as well as his mind, and with some part of himself aware that this was something he had done before, he indulged those feelings as well. He understood then why Victor had been so quick to instill in him the necessity of privacy. He didn't feel ashamed of himself, but he felt very much like it was something he wanted to keep for himself, at least until the thought of Victor's deft hands on him instead made its home in the front of his mind.  
  
The thought of the man who had created him touching him in such a way made him feel more than any words written in a book could ever hope to. The things he read soon felt like a mere whisper, replaced by the vibrant ache that came with this new want. He had thought he yearned for Victor before, but this was something so much more than that. The desire didn't leave him when he had finished, his entire body overcome with the feeling of being _alive_ , but rather settled firmly in his chest where urgency and fear both made their home as well.  
  
He wasn't afraid that Victor would find out what he had done, or even the thoughts he had while doing it, but that when he inevitably let slip the feelings that had now claimed him, that Victor would deny him and put him aside. But a creator knew everything about their creation, and all the more so when they were afraid. Eventually, he managed to pry the confession from Proteus, though he didn't even attempt to rely on his still very uncertain grasp on words. Instead, he took Victor by the hand and pressed his palm over the place in his chest where it hurt. His face must have said the rest, because Victor's expression softened from the mask of concern and he gathered Proteus in his arms, smiling gently. He pressed himself tighter against Victor, his hands gripping the other man's coat, and did not let go for the longest time until Victor pressed a warm kiss to the corner of his mouth and gave him a swift, secret nod.


End file.
